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Chapter 1: Son of Hades
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For many, reincarnation is seen as a second chance: a way to leave behind past mistakes and begin something entirely new, with the hope of building a more fulfilling existence.
A fresh start, made of different choices and possibilities never had before.
That's why so many dream of being reborn in a fantasy world, filled with magic, legendary creatures, and extraordinary powers, where everything seems possible and fate is finally in your own hands.
And guess what? I ended up in one of those scenarios.
And not just that: I was reincarnated as a god. In theory, the ultimate stroke of luck — the highest point one could aspire to. Everyone's dream, right?
A blessing without equal.
A physical strength that far surpasses human limits, immortality, and of course, divine powers: the ability to bend the very laws of reality through mastery over their divine domains. Gifts so vast that mortals can only dream of truly understanding them.
And yet, things don't always turn out the way you expect. The much-praised divine privileges, in fact, aren't guaranteed for everyone: they depend entirely on what kind of god you are.
In this reality, even among deities, there exists a strict hierarchy — a sort of food chain where the strong dominate, and the weak must adapt or be crushed.
It was a universal truth: just like humans, not all gods are born equal, and not all have the privilege of standing on the highest rungs of the divine ladder.
Me? I'm the weakest in my family. The youngest among immortal and unbelievably powerful beings of the "famous" Greek Pantheon.
You know who I'm talking about, right? The main gods, the Olympians, the ones who live on Mount Olympus... or, as I like to call it, the Alabama of mythologies.
Incestuous relationships, betrayals, divine revenge — a real mess with a halo.
But let's not open that Pandora's box.
I wasn't like them.
I was born with quite a few flaws that, from the very first moment, placed me at the lowest rung of this "divine" hierarchy. A new life, yes, but one that had already started off on the wrong foot.
I'm not the classic invincible God you hear about in legends, nor some feared and revered entity that mortals are terrified to offend for fear of being cursed and turned into a monster or something like that.
I'm simply different—or better said, as my beloved mother used to put it: "An adorable god who still had to find his path toward his divine domain..."
Especially because, unlike most others, I didn't come out omnipotent from my father's stomach, and although I wasn't a complete cripple, I was certainly no model for mortal worship.
I didn't have a blinding light that marked me as superior, nor an overwhelming energy that would make the skies tremble in my presence or bring terror at the mere sight of me.
On the contrary, I was extremely weak—or at least by divine standards—since my father was a major god, which made sense considering I came out of my mother's womb like a stillborn child.
It's not something you'd expect to happen to gods, but like everything else, there are always exceptions. And I, evidently, am one of them.
I had no clue how to deal with all the bullshit I had to face. Especially the stuff about myself and that divine domain I still hadn't discovered.
Because let's be honest: how could I even call myself a god if I didn't even know what my power was?
I mean, it wasn't a huge surprise, in the end, when I finally figured out who I really was. But a part of me… well, a part of me hoped things would turn out differently.
Still, what really mattered was that I was alive. And I owed that to my second mother, Nyx. She was the one who brought me back, who revived me with her incredible powers as an ancient primordial—third time's the charm, if I'm not mistaken.
That kind of became a recurring theme in my new life.
It's not like I really remembered my first life, since aside from some basic things, I felt pretty much like a blank slate because of it. I wasn't sure—and I'm still not—when exactly my mortal soul came into play.
Was it before or after Nyx revived the body? I've wondered from time to time, but I never really dwelled on the question.
Because, at the end of the day, it didn't really matter. I was alive, and that was what truly counted. I had a second chance ahead of me—a life that, at least in theory, could be worthy of who I was or who I wanted to become.
That was my goal, at least in the short term. I'd think about something bigger later, once I understood myself better and found my place in this new world.
Even if, honestly, at the beginning I was completely shocked. Surprised, to say the least, when I realized where I was…
And more importantly, who I had become.
You see, I am the son of Hades, the god of the Underworld.
And my name is Zagreus.
Yes, the very same Zagreus from the game Hades, the prince of the Underworld and son of Hades, protagonist of the game — which hinted at a lot of things about me, even if my situation was very different from how it's represented there.
Well, it was predictable after all: this is not a game, and this is my actual real life. And even now I keep wondering how the hell I ended up in this universe that, until not long ago, I considered just a made-up invention.
And yet here I am.
I certainly didn't meet some omnipotent being who offered me the chance to reincarnate, and from what little I remembered of my past life, I definitely didn't deserve such a reward.
I wasn't, in all honesty, anything special. Your average mob character, really, but in the end it didn't matter all that much.
And yes, even as a God I had to go through that process. In fact, even now I was still growing and could be considered on the verge of becoming a young man.
Although I wasn't exactly sure how old I was, since it's pretty hard to judge how much time has passed when there's no sun or moon in the Underworld.
Another indicator that I was maturing was Megaera, since I caught her occasionally throwing glances of appreciation my way, which I didn't mind at all.
She still kept her distance and treated me like a little brother, though. Honestly, I have no idea how the Zagreus from the game ever got anywhere with her.
Even so, I was no longer Hades's little brat.
Yet, for what felt like the first ten years — or at least, the time I believed had passed — I lived in a constant inner conflict.
I struggled to accept my existence, as if I didn't really belong in that place. I felt out of place, like an intruder in a life that wasn't truly mine.
However, there was nothing I could do to change my situation. Because of my circumstances, I couldn't die, nor could I escape the Underworld.
So, I decided to fully embrace my new life.
Unlike the Zagreus from the game, as I grew up I was definitely more mature. I wasn't a rebellious brat, and my relationship with Hades — my father — was all in all better, even though he seemed to go out of his way to make it as complicated as possible.
That said, he still appreciated the fact that I helped him without complaining too much. Even if of course he'd never admit it openly — or at least that's what my mother used to say.
Still, Hades was tough. There's no other way to put it. He was always strict with me, and I could count the times he praised me on the fingers of one hand...
And yet, he cared about me in his own strange way. I was given everything I needed or wanted, and the only thing he asked of me was to help him with his many duties.
That's all he ever wanted — just a bit of help.
And even though I had learned to understand his work, my father told me, without a shadow of a doubt, that he hadn't raised me to inherit his position.
I might be his only male heir, but my father would never pass his title to me. And not because it was impossible for a god to transfer his domain — even though technically it is — but simply because he never would.
I imagine the Zagreus from the game would have taken something like that badly, maybe seen it as betrayal or injustice. I, on the other hand, was almost grateful for it
Being the Sovereign of the Underworld is a thankless, exhausting, and never-ending job. A burden I never wished to carry. To be honest, it's such a dreadful role that I'd only wish it upon my worst enemies.
I truly pitied my father for being stuck in that position, really. He definitely got the short end of the stick compared to his brothers.
Not only did he get the hardest job, but he was also bound to the Underworld for eternity. As if that wasn't enough, he also had to keep an eye on the place and make sure it didn't go insane or end up starting a war against the other Pantheons just because they were thinking too much with their dicks instead of their heads.
Yes, I spoke of them like that, but not because I hated them. None of them had ever hurt me, at least not directly. And as frustrating or flawed as they could be, they were still my family.
Deep inside, there was always that visceral feeling that breaking those ties would have been wrong.
But it wasn't surprising that Hades resented, in a certain sense, the rest of our family. He didn't exactly hate them. Dad was just spiteful because their jobs were simple and easy, and because they were free to go wherever they pleased.
I was jealous of them too. I wanted to explore the mortal world and see how far humans had progressed in this new world I'd ended up in and knew so little about.
Had their technological progress reached the level of my past life? Did the internet exist here? Gods, how I missed it.
Or maybe humanity developed differently in this world? After all, Greek gods were real, and if I wasn't mistaken, there were other Pantheons out there too.
Humans, here, seemed to have developed in a mystical and completely different way from what I knew. From what my father told me, there are humans who possess objects called Sacred Gears, capable — in some cases — of bringing them to the same level as a god.
I would've given anything to be able to leave the Underworld and see the world above. The boredom down here was unbearable. Every day felt exactly like the last, and the opportunities for distraction were few and always the same.
The only real relief was training with Achilles. He wasn't just a legend of war — he was a force of nature. He didn't go easy and didn't accept excuses.
With him, I learned how to truly fight, to master every technique with discipline and determination. And even though I often ended up on the ground, covered in bruises and frustration, each lesson brought me closer to what I was meant to become.
According to him, I had real talent for combat. That was at least one of the things going right, since I didn't have the monstrous divine power the rest of my family enjoyed.
While most of them could just hit things and make them vanish, I had to rely only on my Bloodstones, my ever-evolving technique, and my fighting spirit to keep going.
Unfortunately, I was barely on their level, considering they've been alive for who knows how long. And even that might be a huge exaggeration on my part.
I could never thank Achilles enough for his teachings. Thanks to him, I could now face any challenge with pride and confidence in my abilities.
The arena floor was solid beneath my feet, but not enough to make me feel truly stable. In front of me, Odysseus stood there, calm as ever, shield raised and spear ready to strike.
He studied me, with that air of superiority that made me want to rip the smirk off his face. "Ready to begin?" he asked, his tone slightly amused.
I didn't answer. I moved first, trying to take the initiative with a quick strike to his side. But my blow was easily deflected by his shield, the metallic clang echoing in the air like mockery.
"Too slow," he said, spinning around and slamming the edge of his shield against my shoulder. The impact was strong enough to throw me off balance and force me a step back.
Before I could react, Odysseus was already on me, his spear drawing a precise arc aimed at my head. I raised my weapon just in time to parry the strike, but the recoil almost made me stumble.
"You need to anticipate my rhythm, Zagreus," he admonished, striking my side with a kick that knocked the air out of me. I staggered, trying to stay upright, but he didn't give me a moment to breathe.
"I know… easy for a hero faster than any Greek myth to say," I panted, trying to buy time to come up with a strategy that could turn the tide.
"If this were a real fight, you'd already be down," he replied sharply, lunging at me like an unstoppable storm.
I attempted a desperate thrust aimed at his chest, but he deflected it with his shield effortlessly. Then he moved fast — like a viper. The shield smashed into my forehead with a clean blow.
THUD!
Pain exploded in my head, a deafening chime that made me stagger. But instead of retreating, I gritted my teeth and advanced, pushing through the pain.
I grabbed his face with force, slamming it with a powerful, sharp headbutt that drew first blood, causing him to lose his grip on his weapons and dragging the fight into a hand-to-hand brawl.
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